


I'm Always a Slut for Potatoes

by Willowanderer



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: College AU, IHOP, M/M, technicaly sombodys?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-27
Updated: 2020-04-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 16:40:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23880208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Willowanderer/pseuds/Willowanderer
Summary: Prompt from Tumblr4/11 with one of them working at IHOP
Relationships: implied Marluxia/Larxene
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5





	I'm Always a Slut for Potatoes

If the job was degrading and humiliating, at least Even Mathews had the satisfaction of knowing that no one would ever see him.

First, he was working the overnight shift, when weaker mortals were sleeping. 

Second, he was working further than a ten minute’s walk from the campus bars.

Third, no one he knew would commit the gastric carbohydrate laden horror that passed for a regular menu here. Except maybe Braig, but that was counteracted by point two.

Fourth, he was working in the kitchen and no one but staff would ever see him in a hairnet and apron. (the fact he wore similar gear in the lab had not slipped his mind so much as it had been discarded as irrelevant information.)

No one would ever find out that he worked at IHOP. Which was not international in the least, and having seen how they were made (and made far too many himself) he was not sure counted as pancakes.

It was the middle of the week and after one so he’d cleaned the griddle and was perched on a stool, reading one of his text books. It sounded like someone had come in, so he was trying to finish the paragraph before the single waitress on shift brought the order in.

“Uh Even?” She peered through the slot between the counter and the kitchen. She wore platform sneakers at work (slightly against the rules) but still had to rise on her toes to do it.

“Yes?” it wasn’t her fault, so he didn’t sigh as he put down the book.

“Do we have any hashbrowns ready?”

“No, you know the rule- nothing stands for more than a half an hour, after that it goes in the homeless bins, and no one has been in in over an hour.” He frowned. “Weren’t you supposed to be off shift at one?”

“Arlene hasn’t come in.” She gave a twist of a smile. “Back to the hashbrowns. Uhm. We need some out here. A lot of them.”

He moved to action, putting on gloves and reaching for the materials before he stopped. “That’s not a formal order, Namine.”

“I know, but I don’t know how to put in what he said.”

“.. What did he say?”

“He said ‘Give me all of the hashbrowns. all of them.’ He looked really intense about it.”

This time Even _did_ sigh.

“Namine, you need to go back to the counter and tell that meme loving fuck that we serve has browns as a side, smothered, and unsmothered, and as a full plate, but ‘all of them’ means nothing.”

“I’m pretty sure I’m not allowed to do that.”

“It’s three in the morning, Namine. I’m pretty sure you can. More to the point, _I_ am sure we are not allowed to serve anyone ‘all of the hashbrowns’.” while he told her this, he was greasing the skillet and pouring potato chunks into the sizzling spitting mess in carefully measured cups. She made a face, but dropped down so only the top of her head was visible and left the window.

Over the sound of cooking tubers, he heard Namine’s soft voice piping at the customer. And snorted, because clearly her art classes were taking a toll on her, since she’d repeated him word for word.

“I know what I said!” Another voice shot back, deep and masculine. Even could mentally see the tiny waitress cringing; she had her own reasons for working the nearly abandoned night shift, and only part of that was a caffeine addiction. “I need the taters. Boil’em mash ‘em stick ‘em in a stew, PO-TA-TOES.”

“You really are a meme-loving fuck.” Without thinking Even had come out, something he’d sworn not to do, and was glaring down his nose at the surly man sitting at the counter. Surly with feathered pink hair and eyeliner that was running every which way. He was wearing a translucent silk shirt that hugged a toned body and a leather jacket. He looked like a model, not someone who was in an IHOP in the middle of the night begging for hashbrowns.

“Yes!” He whirled at Even eyes wide, and a faintly manic smile that showed only a hint of even white teeth. “Yes, I am a meme loving fuck. I am a giant dork, I am done pretending not to be, and the only reason I am here” he jabbed a manicured nail, polished with translucent glittery nailpolish and french tipped in petal pink at the counter “Is because I was just _spectacularly_ dumped; It was practically a musical number and I know this is the only place in town she won’t be, because she’s supposed to be working here. I need complex carbs to soothe my soul and broken heart, I know what I’m about son, give me all of them.” Namine was pressed against the wall opposite the pink haired man, hand pressed to her mouth- but Even could tell she was smiling. He was trying not to smirk himself. Arlene had brought another man low, it seemed that she hadn’t been exaggerating about how she loved to mess with people’s minds. Psychology students. They should be kept segregated from normal people. 

“So.” Even drawled as the other man smeared more of the faintly glittery eyeliner that was dripping from tears across his cheek with the back of his hand. “Double order? Smothered and covered?”He dropped down to the stool and propped his head on one hand. 

“Yes.” was the response. “Extra bacon. Bacon is the life.”

“It’ll be ten minutes. Have some coffee.” He turned and caught the edge of the still swinging kitchen door. “Decaf maybe.”


End file.
